


The Revenant's Skull

by The_Jashinist



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Blood and Torture, Gen, Headcanon, I did this, Mild Gore, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Pre-Ruination, Psychological Torture, Torture, and feeling incredibly evil about this, and i'm realizing i did this, recognizing i did this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 23:15:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13891200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Jashinist/pseuds/The_Jashinist
Summary: A child never should've been placed in that vault.  Everyone knew it, but no one wanted to admit it.





	The Revenant's Skull

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a theory I'd come up with a while back and I'm not sure if it's canon-divergent or not.

Thresh stared at the skull in the monk’s hands.  It was unevenly black, like flames had charred the outermost parts, leaving patches of dark gray where the fire hadn’t really burned much.  Thresh lifted the skull and turned it over in his hands.

“It’s a conduit,” the monk explained, as if the teenaged monk was stupid.

“Yes, I know it’s a conduit,” Thresh snapped, “I’m looking.  Where’s it from?”

“The Iron Revenant’s fortress,” the monk replied, “it’s part of the spell that kept him alive.”

“You’re using that term loosely, right?” Thresh asked, raising an eyebrow and turning a skull to the older man, “Any spell using a skull as a conduit is not a spell that should necessarily contain the words ‘life’ or ‘alive’ Brother.”

“Fine then,” the monk sighed, “just catalogue it and keep it safe.”

Thresh bared his teeth as the monk ascended the vault stairs.  When the monk was gone, Thresh looked down at the skull and sighed.

“Now I wonder what you were like,” he muttered, trailing into the high shelves to place the skull with the other artifacts, “what kind of man were you, Iron Revenant?  Clearly the kind of man not above necromancy.”

Thresh gave a short laugh at his own comment, then paused at a mirror.  The mirror wasn’t cursed, but the being inside liked showing people dark spirits that lingered about what they carried.  It almost never showed spirits in conduits, not the least because conduits seldom had anything in them.  But in the mirror, lingering just behind Thresh, was a black form, though nothing was discernable.  Thresh shrugged it off and kept moving.  The mirror also liked toying with people, it wasn’t hard to make the conclusion that it was screwing with its keeper, as usual.

Thresh turned around a bookshelf and placed the skull on a shelf with other conduits, giving the skull’s forehead a quick tap before walking towards his desk to catalogue the thing.  Thresh hummed a small nursery rhyme to himself as he walked, the words coming easily to mind, as he’d heard them so often as a boy.

Thresh paused and turned around, suddenly struck with the feeling that he wasn’t alone, but he ignored it, it wasn’t really a big deal.

But the feeling didn’t go away, it was always there, nagging him at the back of his head, getting steadily worse and worse as time progressed.

Thresh tapped his nail on the table and stared down at the uneaten plate in front of him.  The monk across from him said something, but Thresh didn’t hear it.

“Brother Tane,” a monk elbowed Thresh, “are you even listening?”

“Mm?” Thresh glanced at the monk across from him, “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

The monk looked irritated, “Bullshit you didn’t catch that.”

“Are you getting enough sleep?” the monk that had elbowed Thresh looked worried.

“Would you if half the things you guard are intent on giving you nightmares?” Thresh asked.

“Oh come on,” the monk across from Thresh stood and stormed off, not even saying a thing about what he wanted from Thresh in the first place.

“He wanted to know if you’d catalogued the Revenant’s skull,” one of the other monks commented, “did you?”

“Yes, I did,” Thresh muttered, “when do I not catalogue the artifacts in my vault?”

“Some other guardians stopped after a while, we never figured out why.”

Thresh grunted and got to his feet, “Who wants my share?”

“You feeling okay?”

Thresh scoffed, “Not at all.”

The monks began splitting Thresh’s uneaten meal amongst themselves, a few wishing Thresh better health, their eyes dull and sympathetic to a fault.

Thresh returned to the vault, and again came the feeling of being watched.

At the bottom of the steps stood the abbot, flipping through the artifact catalogue, the monk that had been sitting across from him standing indignantly beside him.

“Really?” Thresh let out a heavy sigh, “I catalogued it Father Gray.”

“Then why didn’t you tell Brother Cass?” the abbot asked.

“I’m sick,” Thresh lied, “I was going to get some rest because I kept nodding off.”

The abbot looked at Cass, who bared his teeth at Thresh.

“Liar,” he snarled, “you’re just trying to get me off your back.”

“You really like it down here?” Thresh asked, “Because last I recall you were removed from this post because you tried to kill Brother Yorick.”

“Brother Tane,” the abbot warned, closing the book, “it’s all in order Brother Cass, please go back up to your post.”

Cass grunted and went back up the vault steps.

“Do you need any help Brother?” the abbot asked, offering the book to Thresh, “I know this was a big undertaking for a boy of fifteen, but I hope you’re not too troubled.”

“I’m just sick Father Gray,” Thresh accepted the book with a low bow, “a little rest and I’ll be right as rain.”

The abbot nodded, “Be safe, little one.”

The abbot disappeared upstairs.  Before he left, Thresh considered asking about the feeling he was having, but decided against it.  He’d be fine on his own, he wasn’t Cass.

Then again, as the feeling worsened, a voice came with it, deep, and sweet as honey.  Thresh kept drifting off as it spoke, the words were far unkinder than its gentle tone would suggest.  Thresh kept jolting awake in a cold sweat, terrified of something intangible brought by the honeyed voice.  Thresh started avoiding sleep as best he could, and along the way, avoiding an ever more irritated Cass.

Thresh leaned on his desk and looked down at the book on it.  it was a living book, one placed here years before Thresh had been placed in its charge.  It had been acting up a lot recently, squealing about the Revenant.  It was evil, but it seemed scared.

Thresh picked up the book and flipped it open, digging into the binding as he heard the book’s voice pleading for him to stop.  Thresh, slowly, carefully, ripped part of the page from the binding, and the book let out a horrid shriek that made Thresh’s ears ring, but god did this thing’s pain feel good.  Thresh slowly tore the rest of the page out, then continued to tear each page, slowly, methodically, like pulling teeth.  Each scream produced sent a rush of adrenaline through Thresh, and he began to grin wide.

And then it all came crashing down on him.  Thresh dropped the book and stumbled back, hitting the ground hard.  Thresh heaved, a dribble of vomit spilling through his lips and dripping down his chin for a moment before Thresh properly puked, twice.  He sat for a moment, trying to accept the weight of what he just did, before sitting up completely and stumbling over to the book.  As his shaking hands closed around it, he heard its pleading voice again.  A simple cantrip fumbled its way out of Thresh’s mouth, binding the torn pages back into the book as if nothing had happened.

Thresh placed the book on the desk and walked away to clean himself up and take care of the puddle of vomit on the floor.  Silently, he cursed himself, not sure what had even driven him to do something that cruel.  And amid the regret there was the voice, dismissing every kind thought that ran through Thresh’s head.  After a moment, Thresh was almost compelled to believe the praise, but he shook his head, deciding the voice was just egging on a moment of frustration.

Thresh picked up the book, feeling its frame shake in his hands.

“Me too,” Thresh muttered quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Thresh replaced the book on the shelf and paused for a moment.

“Why are you worried about the Revenant?” he asked, hoping to glean something from the book that had been making such a fuss.

_He speaks to us._

Thresh lifted his hand from the spine, overcome by the collective voice that responded.  It wasn’t the book, it was everything, the whole vault was speaking to him.

_He speaks to you._

Thresh looked at the shelves, suppressing a shudder and backing away.  He started for the exit, a clear thought in his mind to tell the abbot, get help, but when he reached the bottom of the steps, he stopped.

If he did tell the abbot, it would just be Cass all over again, another guardian monk who couldn’t handle the vault.  He’d never hear the end of it, especially not from Cass.  Cass had been bitter about Thresh’s placement from day one, in the order, as a guardian, in the vault.  Cass hated anyone with natural magic, anyone the abbot particularly liked, and it didn’t help Thresh’s case any that his father was one of the Cardinals.

Thresh took a deep breath and turned to the vault.  He was chosen for this because he had a strong will.  He could handle a bit of dark magic.  He could handle the revenant.

He’d lasted this long.

* * *

 

Thresh pulled his hair free of his ponytail and leaned on his desk, looking at the shining mirror in front of him, polished clean after hours of tarnishing the silver.  Thresh pulled his lips into a snarl and tapped a nail on the mirror’s surface.  The mirror’s light shied away from his hand, making Thresh’s face split into a wide grin.

There was a clink of chains and Thresh flicked his gaze up to the stairs.

“Brother Tane?”

Thresh quickly picked up the mirror and disappeared among the shelves to return the mirror to its shelf.

“This one’s a little important...can you see?”

“Perfectly fine,” Thresh pulled his hair back up and turned the corner.  One of the monks looked a little unnerved by the darkened vault.  Gingerly, he held a chain leash, attached to a man with etched skin.

“Right,” the monk nodded, “You know Brother Cass kept the vault this dark.”

“I had the lights low for a bit,” Thresh shrugged, “headache.  Who is this?”

“Oh, Thorn, a warlock from the mainland,” the monk pulled the man forwards, “he’s got magic infused in his flesh or something like that.  The abbot said you’d be looking after him, making sure he doesn’t escape.  I think Father Matiu said your magic’s suited to that sort of thing.”

“He’s right,” Thresh shrugged, lifting the chain from the monk’s hand, “thank you brother.”

The monk gave a polite bow and hurried up the steps.  Thresh looked to Thorn and raised an eyebrow.

“Infusing magic into your flesh,” he recounted, making the man nod, “Well, not the stupidest thing a mage in this vault has done, I guess I’ll give you that.”

Thresh dropped the leash and shrugged, “The wards won’t let you leave, so there’s no point in chaining you to a wall.”

“Do you hear that?” Thorn asked.

Thresh frowned, “Hear what?”

“The voice.”

Thresh paused.  He’d gotten so used to the Revenant’s voice he’d barely realized that he didn’t notice it anymore.  It would certainly explain his recurring headaches though.

“Yes,” Thresh nodded, “That would be the Revenant.”

“The Iron Revenant, Mordekaiser?” Thorn looked around, “He’s here?”

“The conduit that keeps him tied to this plane is interred in this vault, if that’s what you mean,” Thresh confirmed, “I’m used to him.”

“How old are you?” Thorn asked.

“Sixteen,” Thresh replied, “I’ve been in this vault for five, six years now?  I can’t quite recall.  It’s been a long time.”

“And Mordekaiser must’ve arrived a year or so ago, right,” Thorn pulled a book off a shelf, then frowned, “you’ve bound these with magic, repeatedly.”

Thresh glanced at Thorn, “Yeah?”

Thorn looked up at Thresh, “Are you listening to him?”

Thresh scoffed, “I don’t even hear him anymore.”

Thorn looked down at the book in his hands, running his fingertips over the cover, “I worked for the Revenant, at one time.  Once you start listening, you don’t hear him anymore.”

Thresh paused at his desk and looked at Thorn, “What does the magic in you do exactly?”

“I can’t die,” Thorn replied, “not by violent means anyway.  No matter how grievous the wound, it heals.”

Thresh raised his eyebrows and watched Thorn disappear into the vault.  A smirk flickered across his face and he slid a hook out from a desk drawer.

“Bone and flesh and things that bleed,” he hummed, “just what every sadist needs.”

Thresh paused, his words dawning on him, and he dropped the hook with a clatter.  What was he saying?  He’d made an oath.  Was he really going to ignore it now?  Thorn hadn’t done anything wrong.

The voice began creeping into his head again, tangible words echoing in his mind, slurs and insults slung at Thorn.  A traitor, a zealot, all things wrong with liches like him.  Thresh supported himself on his desk and he covered his mouth to keep from crying out.

He had to tell someone.

Thresh started for the stairs, but a force knocked him clean off his feet and held him to the ground.  Thresh gasped, it felt like someone was pressing their knee into his gut and gripping his throat, but he couldn’t see a soul.  Thresh mustered enough breath to let out a shriek that made his ears ring, but was cut short by that invisible force striking his face with an audible crack.

“ _Scream again, and you die_ ,” the deep voice in Thresh’s head echoed into the room, making Thresh’s blood run cold.

The force holding him down revealed itself, a humanlike black form grinning intangibly from above.  Finally, able to see what was holding him, Thresh grabbed the hand on his throat and forced energy into his palms.  A burning light erupted from Thresh’s hands, driving the form off of him and back a few paces.  Thresh gasped for air and sat up.  That much energy should’ve dispelled the form.  Thresh knew the limits of his power and he should’ve banished the thing back to its conduit, at least temporarily.

Thresh felt a lump in his throat and he could almost feel the color draining from his face.  This past year, all of it, had just been patience.  The Revenant was wearing Thresh down; he was waiting.

“Light magic depends much on one’s purity,” the form laughed, “you were a challenge, but such fun to corrupt.”

Thresh scrambled for the lantern he kept tucked under his desk, a conduit like the Revenant’s skull, but it channeled his magic, rather than a dark spell.  The lantern lit up with electric light as Thresh’s hand closed around the lantern, flaring forth with bright blue fire.  Thresh stood shakily, holding the lantern aloft.

“Not. Another. Step.”

The form lingered for a moment then rushed forwards, it’s intangibility melting into the form of a cruel young man, his pale skin greyed from death, his red eyes flashing with malice and glee.  The man’s face was twisted into a joyful grin as his hand slid so easily through the lantern’s blue flames and closed around Thresh’s throat.

“You don’t get to make orders.”

The intangible mist rushed at Thresh, forcing into Thresh’s eyes and mouth.  Blood poured from his eye sockets like tears, the mist made him gag, but there was nowhere for anything to go.  He could feel the mist closing around his heart, coating his lungs like slime, settling in his gut.  His vision cleared, and the cruel man was gone, in his place stood Thorn, his face paled from what he just witnessed.  Thresh dropped the lantern and stumbled forwards a few steps before collapsing to his knees and puking black sludge onto the ground.

_Make him suffer_.

Thresh looked up at Thorn, and the terror written across his face, and grinned wide, standing slowly, grasping the hook that had clattered to the floor in one hand.  Thorn took a half-step back, shaking his head slowly.

“Mordekaiser let him go,” he begged.

“ _Why_?” the Revenant’s voice drifted from Thresh’s mouth, “ _He’s mine Thorn, my Warden_.”

Thresh dug the hook into Thorn’s skin, pushing the barbed tip between the skin and the muscle, then peeling the skin back slowly.  Thorn closed his eyes tightly, bearing the pain as best he could.

“ _And I’m not giving him back_.”

* * *

 

Yorick stumbled along the beach, looking in vain for any monk that still lived, until he sighted a green flame bobbing near the citadel, a familiar green flame he’d once found comforting, but now it came with an oppressive darkness.

A black force burst from the citadel, far darker than the mist that already shrouded the Isles like a noxious cloud.  Yorick started up the steps, over corpse after corpse to see what had come.  At the top of the steps stood a familiar form, wreathed in green, but tangible, hot a spirit, something far darker.

“Tane,” Yorick almost choked on the name, and the form turned to him, the familiar face of Matiu’s son staring down at him, a grin across his face, “Tane what have you done?”

“As he was told,” a deep voice replied as an enormous armored figure stepped into view behind him, “as he’s done for the past year.  He serves me, not your order.”

Yorick felt a heavy weight crash upon his shoulders, and he stared into Tane’s eyes.  They flickered with a malice Tane had never possessed, even in life.

“What have you done?” he whispered low, then raised his voice loud, “He’s only a child!”

“Yes, well, you should’ve thought of that before putting him in that vault,” the armored figure snarled, “before exposing him to the very worst of magic, expecting a strong will and an inner light to fix everything.”

Tane descended the steps slowly, a soft smile on his face.

“Kill him,” the figure ordered.  Tane leaned forwards his grin vanishing for a moment, the malice fading.

“Run,” he hissed, “live.  Heed me before the Revenant forces my hand.”

“KILL HIM!” the figure screamed.  Yorick managed to get out of the way before the hook in Tane’s hand hit the ground in front of him, cracking the stone.

“RUN!” Tane repeated, then let out a horrific shriek of pain and convulsed.

Yorick ran.  When he was far enough away, he turned back to the citadel, feeling tears coursing down his cheeks.  Flashing through his mind was the face Tane wore when he told Yorick to run, laced with a terror so deep Yorick could tell it was the fear of a child.

In the end, that’s all Tane was, that’s all he’d ever been.

A child.

**Author's Note:**

> So uh, I did this over the span of two days and I'm about 95% sure this theory is among the darkest ones I've ever come up with for this character.  
> But yeah the basics of the theory is that since Mordekaiser's skull would probably be placed in Thresh's vault, it was the main driving factor in corrupting Thresh and that part of Thresh's corruption may be suppressing his free will in favor of Mordekaiser's will, the soul collection being a method of weeding out souls that would plausibly be able to rise against him.  
> I'm not sure if it's even plausible, but I like it.


End file.
